When I pulled in, I was wrung out, physically and mentally. Exhausted from the stress of worrying all day, crying in the car, and then driving through traffic. Riley came outside before I exited my car. He pulled my door open, took my hand, and led me inside. After he shut the front door, I fell apart, tears running down my face with renewed force. Riley pressed me against the door, practically holding me up with his body. He cupped my face, tipped my head back, and kissed my forehead. “Shh, baby. I’m so sorry.” He held me close. His actions only made me feel worse. He was too sweet. I needed to have a tantrum and scream. He held me together instead. In fact, he finally swung me up into his arms and carried me through the foyer and toward the living room where he deposited me on the couch in his lap. “You look nice,” he commented, pointing to my skirt, undoubtedly trying to distract me.
